Everyone's Just Practice For the Next One

When we fell into bed soaking wet from the
Shower and stayed until we were dry. When
We hid with the lights out and watched police
Cars cruise by, flashing neon.
When we whispered secrets into winter air
And the sunset followed us home. When we
Took turns trading sips and songs and woke
Up afraid to get out of bed.
When I drove the car fast. Turned engine to
Crushed metal. Sat in the rain until my bones
Aches and I memorized the way I said your
Name because I knew I wouldn’t again.
When we traded handwritten letters like
Children exchange valentines. When we
Marked our path down forest trails and left
Our heart in the woods, still bleeding.
When we spent hours doing nothing or
Everything. The spots we filled my car with
Smoke. The nights my fingerprints graced
The car windows under a streetlight.
When I bled on the bathroom floor. Hung up the phone. Forgot how to say your name.
Realized how often these things repeat.
Realized how often I always bleed.
When I sucked teeth into new flesh. Hung
His jacket in my closet and called it home.
Drank all the bitter wine and saw it all
Happen again. Realized how these things
Repeat. And I don’t know how to slow this
Revolving door of summer romances and
Secret kisses under street lamp gold but
I have still forgotten how to say your
Name.